Epilogue
by Tripolar Studios
Summary: Ever wondered what happened after the conclusion of this groundbreaking game? Of the relationships, the troubles, or the events that followed thereafter? Here, pull up a chair, and let me begin.
1. Shattered

Shattered

I remember how fascinating and strangely satisfying to see your tsundere facade broken in that instant, even if it was for the brief span of time that your thin, soft neck was in my grip. The way your spindly legs kicked around pathetically, while your tiny, periwinkle little hands scrabbled at my knuckles, begging for release, spurred my insanity to further heights.  
>But, disregarding all of that, you found hope in me. You watched me kill my "siblings" in cold blood, only to turn to you and hold you by your neck.<br>There wasn't really anything special that you did when you said it. It was just the blind, almost childish hope that I could so easily be brought back from the brink that got me back to reality. Your soft, wiser-than-looks voice reached me while I was tucked in a fetal position in the back of my mind, and gave me the strength to look through my real eyes.  
>"Red...!"<br>"E-Elh?"

I recall how appalled I was at myself at finding myself doing this to you. Trance leaving me, I dropped to my knees as the loss of power weakened my legs. I looked at my shaking hands (ignoring the gross sensation as my fur shot out from my skin), and saw talons of a beast. My warped reflection on the cold metal underneath me showed me as a monster.  
>For the first time in a very long time, I cried. Not that you would notice it, of course, but in my mind. That, if not for you, I would have lost everything.<p>

Even now, I see you as my savior. As the days of being a Hunter grow more and more lethargic, I find myself haunted by that memory. Chocolat has long gone (she found a boyfriend and, as I'm told, she's engaged), so it's really just you and me, while Merveille stops by every so often to check up on me (it's interesting; ever since she made the connection that she was, biologically, my mother, she's been very concerned about me).  
>I'm afraid of looking at myself in the mirror in these moods; I see the same monster that I did all of those years before. I see the grinning teeth of the beast that still lingers under my skin, and it seems to me mouthing to me: "I was so close."<br>But then you come and rub my back, and I grin and pretend that nothing was happening.  
>Then you take my hand and we leave the bathroom, but not fast enough for me not to steal a reassuring glance at the mirror.<br>All I see is my cocky grin and the bone hanging loosely out of my mouth.  
>I'll tell Merveille... err, Mother, about these hallucinations soon. But right now, I'm more content having a ham sandwich with Elh.<p> 


	2. Circumstances

"What kinda name is 'Alman'"? Red Savarin wondered aloud over the hydraulics of the DAHAK. The job posted was to anyone who had a mech, and it said something about a good payoff. The penmanship was admittedly quite nice, written in neat cursive and sealed with a watermark that resembled nothing in particular, he observed it as it perched between his fingers.  
>Over the video comm, Chocolat giggled a little and took a sip out of a can of Miracle Juice. "Good question. But we need that money for fuel, so don't start getting second thoughts!" Red rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at the screen, grumbling, "Yeah, yeah. I'm in the shipyard anyway." With a grunt, he leaned forward and disengaged the comm channel before his sister could produce a retort.<br>Alman was there, standing next to a ship that bore a symbol reminiscent of his watermark. Red's first impression of Alman was a rather ugly, pug woman in her thirties: a gold earring through her right ear; light, baby-blue eyeliner fringing her heavy lids; penciled-on eyebrows, corpulent stomach, matching baby-blue worksuit with said watermark, utility belt, and heavy boots all meant that she was of high standards. Which, in turn, promised a good payoff. Red grinned internally.  
>That grin vanished when this woman spoke, "Oh, darling, are you the lovely thing who got my job?" Her voice was that of someone fitting her rich status, but of the opposite gender. She had the vernacular of a woman, but had the vibrato in her voice of a man.<br>Red, and even the DAHAK froze. _Woah, what?_ his mind screamed, praying that his nonplussed reaction didn't show on his face. He gulped, and managed to reply, "Yeah. A-are you Alman?"  
>He - as we must call him now - smiled widely, and nearly sang, "The one and only, honey!"<br>Alman, as if just now noticing Red and his robot, squealed in surprise and waddled over to the leg of the DAHAK. "What a fabulous robot you have here, sweetie!" he sung breathily, "I've never seen this model before! Where _did_ you get it? I heard Pharaoh had a robot giveaway, but never imagined that they would give something like _this_ away!" he stopped in his reverie and looked up to Red with stars in his eyes, somehow able to hang onto the left arm of Red's robot. "What is this magnificence of robotics called? I. _Must_. Know!"  
>Red gulped, and slowly, hesitantly replied, "It's just DAHAK, sir..."<br>Alman squeaked in girlish happiness, orbiting the squat legs of the work mech in admiration, stopping occasionally to coo a breathy comment. Red was starting to lose his cocky cool. But to save face, he cleared his throat and managed to murmur, "If it's cool with you, sir, I'd like to get to work now." The squat pug looked hurt, but stepped back and visually drooped. "Alriiiight," Alman whined. Turning, he pointed to a cargo airship that was docked next to them; "I need you to stack the storage crates in the warehouse around back..."

Three hours later found our Caninu returning to Alman. It was just another quest, but the strange pug had followed him for all three hours, stopping to massage his feet every few minutes before picking back up on the ridiculous game.  
>It was well into the afternoon when Red was finished, and Alman was digging through a pink-and-blue coin pouch for the payoff. The job was physically jarring for both him and his mech, because some crates had fragile contents that the DAHAK couldn't handle safely, so Red had to carry most of them. What the poor mech was able to carry were almost a ton each crate, and the maximum loading weight of the DAHAK was only just above a ton, so after five crates it began to suffer. Red made a mental note to head to the parts shop to check for a hydraulics upgrade.<br>Back to the present, Alman finished fishing through his purse and gave the payment: three glittering platinum Rings. Three thousand. Red deadpanned.  
>"Take it with my compliments, sweetie!" the pug boomed.<br>Still dumbstruck, Red numbly took the coins and tossed them into a customized money slot in the control panel of the DAHAK. Unsure, Red asked hesitantly, "Is it really alright for you to give me this much? You can feed a family for a month with this much cash..."  
>Alman giggled, and waved an airy, dismissive hand. "Don't worry, dumpling; I have plenty more money where that came from." Red flinched at the new pet-name.<br>Thankfully, Chocolat pulled up a com channel on the DAHAK, waiting for the report. Red scampered up the outstretched arm of his mech to say a few quick words to his sister, and called over the robot's torso, "I'll need to be getting back, sir; my sister has dinner ready."  
>Again, the squat pug giggled, and hollered back up to him a girly, "Goodbyyyyeeee, darling~! I'll be posting more work soon, and I'll be looking forward to seeing more of you!" Instead of replying, Red started up the DAHAK and trundled off towards the docks as fast as seemed polite.<br>When he rounded a corner, he stopped his robot and almost melted into his chair with relief. Red looked over his shoulder, shuddered, and chugged the DAHAK back on into the receding sunlight.

Chocolat had rarely seen Red look so cranky. He came in with a vacant expression after parking his mech in the hangar, ate his two-course dinner in what seemed like seconds (_No surprise there_, she thought dryly) and flopped back onto the guest bed with a growl.  
>So, being the cute little sister she is, Chocolat took it upon herself to try and find out what the problem was. A-problem-hunting then, she casually strolled into the guest room with her hands clasped behind her back and an innocent smile played across her face, and then came to rest against the door frame. "Hey, Reeeeed?" she cooed sweetly, "What's your problem?"<br>Red threw the best death glare he could, but it amounted to nothing more than a withering stare. Laying his head back down, he groaned, "DAHAK needs repairs and several hydraulics upgrades that'll burn through the pay of the job, I met the creepiest man alive, and I carried ceramics across hangar bays for three hours. How was your day?"  
>Chocolat ignored the last question, pouncing upon the money detail. "How much did he pay us?"<br>"Three K."  
>Red almost jumped out of his skin from the uncharacteristic squeal that his little sister made. A stream of half-formed exclamations and mangled giddy sentences spilled over as Chocolat tried to reorient herself with the situation.<br>"I mean, you know, we could buy dinner for a week! That's a... wait." His little sister turned to him with a grimace. "You said that the repairs are gonna use up the pay?" Red rolled his eyes and nodded slowly. "The arms can't even lift higher than the shoulder joint."

Red had never known Chocolat to throw a tantrum. But oh, boy, could she.


	3. Murr

Once again, Red was sleepless. It was troubling for not only himself, who needed sleep for total focus during missions, but it was a hassle for the rest of the Asmodeus's crew, because Chocolat and Elh had to deal with me when I didn't get enough sleep. So there Our Hero sat, at some-and-other-ungodly-hour-o'clock, with me tossing and turning.  
>It wasn't like he didn't have a reason, however.<br>It was that noise. The noise that started up mysteriously exactly a week before that day... or, wait, no, judging the time, was just over a week ago. Technically.  
>Anyway, it was this ominous noise that kept him up. Red likened it to a combination of the DAHAK's servos, the engine of the Asmodeus as it started up, and a drum. Strangely enough, it only happened at night, like the auxiliary heater was overworking itself again. Our Hero groaned when he remembered the painful history of a failed heater. So, worried for the lives aboard the ship, he shuffled into some shorts and mosied down the hall.<br>Flicking the lights on as he walked, Red first went past the kitchen to the patio to see if there were any suspicious on-goings. Unlocking the door with a newly-installed hand-recognition system, he swore under his breath as the ajar door let cold Basset air race through the dining area.  
>The crew of the Asmodeus had docked in Basset for a quick repair job before heading to Spinon for a vacation. But, as luck would have it, the main engine had overheated and the crystal drive had literally melted. The engineers had told them, unfortunately, that they were lucky to have even been flying in the first place. So the crew was stuck in the repair docs until they found the parts to fix it. In fact, to take advantage of the leisure, they used the majority of the day for shopping, where Elh got some books and Chocolat installed the selfsame hand-lock-system-thing that Red had just used.<br>Grumbling, Our Hero took a quick glance around, and made a dash to the clothes line. A jacket fluttered with equal lackluster in the turbulence, so Red slipped it over my bare chest. It made his fur stand on end, both from the cold and static, but he was too groggy to care.  
>Turning a bleary eye to the east gave Red a nice view of Basset, in all of its rusty glory. The night was still rather young, but the city of metal was just beginning to stir. Swivelling his ears a bit found the begrudging screams of drill ships beginning their engine start-up. However, the reluctant whine, being the only observable noise above the gentle hum of the back-up engine idling, did not match the strange noise, so he turned his back on the rousing city for the warm shelter inside his ship. The bitter wind also carried the bitter scent of lubricants and antifreeze, making the whole city smell like an old engine room. Which, in turn, made the dining room smell like one.<br>After securely re-closing the patio door, Red decided to finally check the auxiliary heater engine. Once again opening a door to be met by blistering winds, which were not much abated by the jacket, Red barked his surprise with all the eloquence he could muster. After the initial shock wore off, he shut the hangar door with a grunt. _If I'm right_, Red thought, _It's next to that stack of tools on the third rack... Yup. _Walking over to a dilapidated tool shelf and clearing aside the cobwebbed, rusty tools revealed a little corded box that was whistling merrily. Reaching over and plucking a screwdriver off of a shelf, Red pulled it open to reveal its small crystal core. At the same time, the hangar was illuminated by a ghostly blue luminescence that caught the paint of the dormant DAHAK with sharp detail. Suspended in an anti-friction film, the opalescent, blue crystal gave off little currents of air as it spun around.  
>There was nothing wrong, upon inspection. Every resistor was properly plugged, no broken wires, and no purring noise. With a light snap the little box shut on its own, blocking out the blue light and plunging the hangar into pitch-blackness.<br>And this is how Our Hero spent the next two hours: tweaking bolts, tightening gears, pouring jugs of foul-smelling liquids into motors to keep them running. In other words, stuff that Chocolat usually does. It was about half way through a crystal battery replacement that he stopped to admire Chocolat's patience with these things.  
>After double, triple, and quadruple checking <em>everything<em>, Red finally gave up and trudged towards his door with intent to sleep through the next morning.  
>To his surprise, Elh stood in my way. It was here that several things at once came to his mind: amusement at finding that Elh slept in black pajamas, shock at seeing the state of her hair, and wonderment at the amount of brushing she must have to do to get her hair to style the way it usually does.<br>"What... 'r you doing, Red?" she slurred.  
>Red shrugged and gave her my trademark grin, before patting her shoulder. "Just worried about this bucket of bolts here. I keep thinking I hear a weird noise."<br>Now, it was here that Our Hero, the Protagonist seemed to have missed something. Because of the shadows obscuring her, despite the hall lights, Red didn't notice her bristle slightly. Whatever it was, she kept her voice calm as she whispered, "What does it sound like?"  
>Red gave a noncommittal grunt. "Something like... '<em>whrrrmm<em>'," he splayed his hands out for dramatic effect, "or something. But it repeats itself a lot. Have you heard it?"  
>Again, had Red noticed the tenseness in her posture, he might have caught on sooner. "N-no, I haven't."<br>"Hmmph," he shrugged, "Alright. Tell me if you hear anything else weird, okay?"  
>She responded by promptly turning and shutting her door. Passing it off as crankiness for being woken up so early, Red only stood to ponder it for a second longer before walking back to his bedroom.<br>Five hours later, and the noise was back. Of course it was; Red had only then gotten to sleep because he had nodded off when he was trying to listen for it. With a defiant growl, Our Hero flopped over unceremoniously, grabbed his trusty gunblade from its rack by his bed, and stalked out of the room without even bothering to put on shorts over my underwear.  
>It was louder this time, with a strangely bestial pitch. It almost had a Giu-esque growl to it, but also reminded him a little of sounds that an insect could make. In short, it was too <em>natural<em> to be machinery. Red ran through the possibilities, every one of them was crap. Holding the gun at ready, I paced down the hall, to where the sound was loudest.  
>Elh's room. The sound was coming from Elh's room.<br>"Oh, God no," Red whispered aloud. Whatever it was, it was in Elh's room.  
>Without another thought, he kicked the door open, belting a fierce roar, expecting to find a rabid monster or vicious insect looming over her bed, prepared to take a bite out of her.<br>It was here that I was proved amazingly wrong.  
>There was no rabid monster or menacing bug. No failing auxiliary heater. No danger at all, really.<br>It was Elh.  
>A long pause stretched between her and Our Hero: Red with gunblade primed and ready for action dressed in naught but starchy boxers and Elh with her covers drawn in reflex over a book and an expression of utter shock gracing her face.<br>In future retelling, Red noted a particularly large memory gap between the time he asked her if she was alright and the point where she knocked him out with a fist to the jaw.  
>Upon gaining consciousness - partially- Red found himself still in Elh's room, spread-eagled on her fluffy carpet. It took about two minutes to remember what had happened, and, upon sitting up found the room vacated and light of the Basset morning crews flooding in from the windows. Red conjectured that he had been out for maybe an hour. Before leaving, however, Our Hero took a moment to observe her room.<br>The room itself had a light smell of roses, which turned out to be some burning scent-sticks on a wooden night stand. The carpet was a dark violet with books so large that my head swam just thinking about reading them scattered around. Strangely enough, they were famous and classic romances...  
>Her bed was a light periwinkle, like her clothes, but the blankets were a plain white. She had a mushroom-fiber bookshelf with even more of those disgustingly-thick books stuck neatly next to each other. Upon closer inspection, Red found they were <em>alphabetized<em> of all things. _And_ they were mostly romance. Figures.  
>Being fully conscious, Red looked back on her bed to find the book that she had covered. It was rather new, but not terribly thick. The cover design was of a Caninu man and his Felineko girlfriend sitting on the edge of the pond, splashing their feet and having a lively conversation about something. It was watercolor, with just the right amount of blush on the woman's face and the perfect shade of green on the laughing man's eyes.<br>They really did look like they were having a good time.  
>The book title, written in fancy, bold text beneath the picture, was "Deal With It: The Guide to Winning Your Man's Heart, No Matter Who He Is!" I rolled my eyes at this. <em>A self-help book? Honestly?<em>  
>Though Red scoffed, his ineffable curiosity drew me to the book, so I shrugged, dropped down on Elh's bed (which was actually very soft) and grudgingly began reading.<p>

Elh was at the table, still mortified that Red had caught her reading _that book_. Sure, she'll have something to say to him about almost breaking off her door from the hinges and dressing so indecently, but the fact that he might have seen her reading it meant he had a basis for ridicule, which is exactly what she _didn't _want. Looking like a fool would get her nowhere.  
>Not wanting to go insane from worry, she got herself a coffee and turned on the radio. The news of course. The morning news, full of liars, cheats, and religious maniacs trying to be known. Foul commercials with bad voice acting, selling horrible products that do next to nothing, depleting resources on pointless "substance toys", and - <em>Stop it. Stop it now, <em>she reprimanded herself. Scowling, she turned it off, and huddled against her mug.  
>One of the many reasons she hated depression was that everything suddenly showed their bad sides to her eyes. And she rarely viewed things as totally good, so this was a lot on her mind.<br>Still mad, she took a sip of her coffee, only to spit it out in disgust and splattering it over the tablecloth. It was black coffee. Elh growled, and stormed over to the refrigerator.  
>"It's gonna be a long day", she mumbled disdainfully, and after putting more-than-an-ample amount of creamer into her cup, downed the whole mug in one gulp.<br>There was a small yawn from the corner of the room, and Elh jumped, thinking it was Red. Thankfully it was only Chocolat, her bubblegum hair still in rollers, stumbling down the hall. It took all of Elh's insomnia- and now caffeine-impaired concentration not to laugh.  
>Chocolat typically slept in a cute little sky-blue, pinstriped, two-piece pyjama set, that was specifically designed to show as much skin possible, both top and bottom piece. Today was no exception, only that the shirt sleeves only held one arm, the other hung limply down at her side. Her hair, despite the rollers, were in complete disarray, making her pinkette hair comically resemble candyfloss. There was no doubt that she was but partially awake; one delicate eyelid hung ajar just enough for vision, while the other was shut with resolution. Chocolat also chose that day to wear perfume, so not only did she smell like candy floss, she looked it.<br>Hoping to bring herself out of her dismal mood, Elh greeted her with a friendly, "Morning, Bubbles," in reference to her nickname. Chocolat paused only to give her an unfocused stare, but then murmured a grumpy, "Mornin', Granny," before staggering into the kitchen  
>After some rummaging, Chocolat called out from behind the refrigerator, "Did you use the rest of the creamer?"<br>"Use your eyes, child," Elh replied smugly, but after observing the skillful glare that Chocolat speared her, she pointed to the table corner where the creamer sat dangerously close to the edge. She grunted, and sauntered over to a chair to help herself. The next few minutes lapsed into snug silence as the two girls huddled over their respective mugs.  
>Dawn had a few hours yet to arrive, but the denizens of Basset were well awake. Drill ships, construction fleets, maintenance crews and crab fishermen were crawling over the various steel islands in effort to somehow eke a living. It wasn't like it was difficult however; Basset was a prosperous city-port, despite its slum-like appearance. Sky crabs were harvested not only for food but for the resources that are hoarded on their back. The various corpses of ships that littered the skyscape could be collected and melted down and recycled into anything from mighty battleships that spanned miles across to the humble light switch.<br>It was interesting, in Elh's eyes, that such beings as themselves could find a home in anything: whether it be metal - haphazardly stacked upon magnetic crystal fragments; stone - lovingly crafted into the summer cottages of Spinon; or vegetation - the mushroom-houses of Vizsla, where the very walls were alive. And then, of course, there were a select few, like the inhabitants of the Asmodeus, who yearned for the skies, where the closest we could get were our trusty skycraft.  
>"Huh?" Breaking out of her reverie, Elh turned to Chocolat with a quizzical expression. She rolled her eyes, and repeated grudgingly, "I <em>said<em>, why are _you_ up so early?"  
>Unsure of how to respond, Elh just shrugged, and replied airily, "Bad dreams. And you?" Chocolat groaned and placed her forehead on the table. "Me too. Something about Red in boxer shorts bursting into my room yelling," she grabbed at her hair, "I just can't... get it out... of my head..."<br>Elh laughed sharply, severely startling Chocolat out of her fit. Sadly, though the laugh was supposed to mask her nervousness, but it came out as a bat-like shriek. And Chocolat, who was a young woman of great attention, simply slid her chin into her hand with a smug expression and waited for Elh to start talking.  
>Noticing this, Elh pouted for a bit, but after contemplating the fragrant swirls of steam her coffee produced, she sighed and began her long description of how Red unceremoniously blasted through her door, gunblade in hand and clad in nothing but underpants. Chocolat sat and listened diligently between sips of her coffee. She explained how he had seen her, as she said, in immodest clothing and seemed to like it. There was a moment where Elh had felt a pang of guilt for making Red look like a pervert, but she reassured her self that it kept Chocolat from knowing about <em>the book<em>.  
>After she was finished, Chocolat was absolutely furious about the fact that - as she thought - her big brother, her role model had been peeking on her best friend. Caffeine-hyped system officially taking over, she rose to her feet with a murderous expression, and after grabbing hard onto Elh's slim wrist, towed her across the living room, down the hall, and towards his room.<br>Fear gripped Elh's chest as she realized she had set poor Red up for an unintentional tongue-lashing, to say the least, all to save face on her behalf. But no matter what stuttered excuses she muttered, Chocolat would not be deterred. In a similar manner to what had happened roughly five hours ago, they dove into Red's room, first.

Surprisingly enough, the book wasn't as sappy and condescending as Red had once thought. Yeah, it had the usual peppy outlook on life that most self-help books had, but it also had interesting tips on how to deal with families who look down on cross-race marriage. It also had more beautiful watercolor scans at the beginning of each chapter, along with a goofy little doodle here and there of the subject matter doing something-or-other relevant to the current discussion. What was most interesting was the book was derived from the real experiences that the author had. Apparently, the couple on the front was the author and her boyfriend.  
>It wasn't until Our Hero was about halfway through the book that I stopped to wonder why Elh had picked out this book in the first place. <em>We are good friends, right? <em>I thought, _And I was hoping to ask her out at Spinon... so why is she so insecure?_  
>A roar suddenly broke out from what seemed like the kitchen, and I flinched so violently I almost fell off of the bed. It was definitely Chocolat, and not Elh or a monster, though from that tone of voice she was using it might be second fiddle, so to speak. After recombobulating myself, I hid the book back under Elh's covers, and flopped back onto the carpet in the spread-eagle position that I had been knocked into and snapped my eyes shut.<br>I couldn't help but notice that the carpet, once disturbed, released a heavenly plume of the rose scent-stick smell, so I unintentionally sighed as I sank into the cushy nylon. Little did I know that the smell would be so sweet, and so gentle, that I actually fell asleep just as Chocolat nearly broke down my door. Next was Elh's.

Elh had never seen Chocolat be so angry before. Sure, there was that time when the brand-new turbines she bought and re-fitted for the Asmodeus were blown apart by a sky pirate raid, but at least she had a sensible reason. This, however, was almost animalistic rage for a fib that Elh had formed for personal gain.  
>Red was as she left him hours before: arms-akimbo, unconscious, and in starchy boxers. Loud snores rumbled out of his ajar mouth, and a small trail of saliva was already working its way down the side of his face. He seemed comfortable, if anything.<br>"RED MIHAEL SAVARIN!" Chocolat screeched menacingly. Appropriately, Red jumped a foot off the ground in sheer shock and was now wide awake. Eyes aflame, Chocolat continued her verbal assault. "YOU PEEPED ON ELH! You... why...? Why would you do something like that to her? WHY RED? WHY?"  
>Unfortunately for Our Hero, he was still so shell-shocked from Chocolat giving him this abuse, that he was quite lost for words. Which did not help his situation in the least.<br>To the surprise of everyone, however - including Elh, even as she stood by her doorframe aghast - Chocolat burst into tears before she could even finish her reprimand. Fat, pearly tears splashed against her shoulders as she shook with suppressed sorrow, fighting hard not to cry out loud.  
>Red was, by now, flabbergasted. He had never known anyone to so spontaneously change moods in this manner. Carefully sitting up, he stood up to try to put a slightly-trembling hand on his sister's shoulder, but she pulled away with a snarl choked in tears. "L-leave me alone, p..." she stuttered at the last word. It seemed to take all of her willpower to even begin moving her lips, but when she did speak, the accusation was almost inaudible.<br>"P... pervert!"  
>Chocolat could no longer hold it in. Bawling at the top of her lungs, she tore across the carpet, to the hall, and into her room, slamming her door with a loud report.<p>

The day passed slowly as the repairmen rummaged around in the hangar. It had been about an hour since Chocolat had her breakdown, and frankly Our Hero still wasn't sure what happened. His sister had been in her room since then, every once and a while her grieving would break out anew, while incessant hiccuping sobs wavered out of the hall for hours. To avoid more confrontation, I went to help them out, and ignored their curious and concerned stares toward the bedroom hallway. All in all, Red was pissed.  
>Elh had been rather quiet, too. The only time Red tried to ask for an explanation was while he was searching for some spare hydraulics caps, but even then she completely blew him off. Making a mental note to approach her that evening, Red snarled to himself and continued looking.<br>The repairs had drawn on longer than anyone had thought, but they were done before dinner. In the end, it was cheaper to have a completely new engine fitted, to which Chocolat begrudgingly consented, after half an hour of coaxing her out of her room. She had made many customizations within the engine's lifetime, and it had been so completely destroyed that there was no hope for salvaging parts. This did wonders to her already bitter attitude, but thankfully, she simply stormed back too her room without raising too much hell.  
>After repeated thanks to the repairmen and paying them generously, they loaded into their workship and retreated into the sunset. Red closed the hangar door, passed the DAHAK, and entered the ship interior with intent to wrangle the girls into an explanation. Our Hero was surprised to find them already at the table. Chocolat glared bloodshot daggers at me from behind the fruit bowl, while Elh sheepishly beckoned me to a seat next to her. I complied, and settled down awkwardly and glaring back at my little sister.<br>"Awright," Red began with an edge, eyeing Chocolat and Elh, "I wanna know, firstly, why Cho went apesh-" Chocolat interrupted with a deliberate clearing of her throat, now glaring with almost murderous intent. I rolled my eyes exasperatedly, but continued, "... Why Chocolat was so upset this morning. Then," he turned to Elh with an edge, but not severely, "I wanna know what that noise I heard you make was - yes, I know it was you - and why the effing did you have to knock me out afterward?"  
>Chocolat spent no time waiting for an excuse to explode at him. "Because <em>you<em> peeked on Elh while she was in her PJ's, you p-pervert! I don't wanna be in the same ship as a peeping tom! I mean..." She seemed lost steam as she backtracked, and began picking at the table uncertainly. "You _are_ a guy and all, and I guess guys do that sorta, but why d'ya gotta do that with your best friend like that Red? It's totally uncool, and I... I never saw you as the type to do that! I thought you were a good guy until now!"  
>Slamming the table with his defiant fist, Red roared at her, "What the hell are you talking about, Chocolat? I'd <em>never<em> do something like that! You know I don't peek!"  
>"Then explain why you were in Elh's room, asleep and in the floor!" Chocolat fired back angrily. "Why the heck were you in her room to begin with?"<br>"Because..." he groped my mind for a plausible answer, which did diddly-squat to help himself look innocent. "B-because..."  
>Chocolat triumphantly crossed her arms and barked a laugh, "There! You almost totally admitted that you had no other reason to be there but to peek at Elh! Go on, tell me I'm wrong!"<br>"Okay, then," Red rebutted, bracing myself against the table to hold my anger in, "You're wrong _AND_ you're crazy. Besides, how do you even _know_ I went into her room in the first place, Chocolat? Answer that!"  
>"Because I told her." Both he and Chocolat were very surprised to discover that Elh was still sitting next to him. She had sat so quietly and still that, because of our vicious quarrelling, we had taken no notice.<br>Elh sighed and looked down at her feet, nervously. "Although... I might not have told her the whole story. Err, the _right_ story, anyway."  
>She turned to me with weary, defeated expression. Obviously she had a lot on her mind that she needed to let out.<br>"Okay then," I probed cautiously, raising a suspicious eyebrow, "Tell us the whole story, if you feel up to it." Elh nodded slowly, and sighed again. She fidgeted for a while, but finally got the courage to begin.  
>"First, I'll explain the noise you heard, Red. Have you heard of the term 'purring'?"<br>My eyebrows shot into my bangs as I looked at her, slightly taken aback.  
>"Isn't that a Felineko bedtime story's princess gimmick? '<em>Once the princess purrs after a score of years has transpired, the fate of the kingdom will be sealed<em>', or something, right?"  
>Chocolat unceremoniously quipped, "Wait, how do you know about that in the first place, Red?"<br>He chuckled a bit, and nervously scratched the back of his head. "Remember that one babysitting job we took? With the 'Neko kid who had that tantrum?" A collective shudder seemed to reverberate through the company at the bitter memories. Chocolat nodded, and motioned Elh to continue.  
>"That's actually a true story of sorts, but that would take away from the subject matter, so I'll continue with where I was going in the first place.<br>"It's rather hard to explain purring, other than that it is a primitive reaction to pleasure amongst Felineko, and even then, only few can do it. Usually it was stomped out during early childhood, but around my village it was considered natural. After..." Elh faltered, her expression becoming downcast, "After Baion burned it all down, and a few decades' worth of travel, few people even knew what it was, much less where it came from. It was a folktale by my first century, and a myth by the second.  
>"My guess was that after fewer and fewer Felineko did it, purring simply left the gene pool, and now almost no one does it. Nowadays, I think of purring as rather embarrassing, because it just reminds me of how old I am," She laughed a little, but it was marred by nuances of sadness, no doubt stemming from her deceased family.<br>The room was silent, its inhabitants still trying to absorb the information given. Chocolat picked at the table subconsciously, her chin resting upon her palm. Red was just blown back by the brain-dump that he had just witnessed.  
>Elh, however, had a countenance of quiet satisfaction. Apparently, this information had plagued her for quite some time now, and the relief showed.<br>"A-alright," Our Hero stuttered, "That... explains a lot. Now, what was the deal with the little self-help book?" Elh gasped, whipping around to face him, but being in close proximity of him, their faces just ended up uncomfortably close. She grasped at the opportunity to lie, and hastily turned away from him and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about." Her shoulders rose and fell with nervous breathing, and her eyes widened uncharacteristically.  
>"You know," he replied smugly, sidling close to her and making sure to draw out 'know', "<em>How to Win Your Man's Heart<em>, right? With all of the cute little doodles and watercolor pictures?"  
>Mortified, she whispered a frantic, "Don't tell me you read it." Her heart was almost audibly pounding against her sternum in blind panic, expecting any second that Our Hero would guffaw and begin to tease her for stooping so low as to use self-help media.<br>Instead, Red patted her head, which seemed to genuinely surprise her.  
>"I sure did, Elh." Red grinned his trademark toothy grin, and ruffled her fluffy crown of silver hair with a good natured chortle.<br>A thousand words of confusion and relief seemed to flood her eyes - or were they just tears of relief; like the kind you get after you take a dump after you hold it in for long enough? - and she seemed to dissolve into the chair. Her mouth fell agape into a classic "o" shape, and her eyes stared dead to Our Hero's right.  
>Before she fainted, of course.<br>Her body fell limp against the table with a muffled flop. Red yelped, and sprang to his feet in a blind panic whilst knocking over his chair. He shook her shoulder as gently as he could and called her name repeatedly, but with the sudden adrenaline rush just rocked her small frame back and forth.  
>Chocolat was mildly concerned, but didn't leave her chair. Instead, she looked upon her unconscious friend with a small, knowing smile. She saw the moment of intuition before she "fainted". The beginning of a plan. And her eagle's-eye caught it all. Wanting to save face, however, she shambled over to Elh's right to help "wake" her.<br>Brushing aside a thick lock of bubblegum hair, Chocolat put her hand against her friends forehead, to look like she was checking her temperature. However, this action caused Elh to open her eyes a fraction. Just enough for her to notice the sly wink that Chocolat gave her. And Elh winked back, before pretending to fall back into her swoon.  
>"Oi, Red," Chocolat said, casting a well-crafted, meaningful stare at him. "You should probably carry her to her room."<br>"Do you think it'll help?" he begged. Chocolat was surprised to see that he was genuinely worried about Elh as he tried to keep her sitting straight. His eyes definitely betrayed a weakness that she had almost never seen in her older brother. So Chocolat adopted a motherly smile, and nodded reassuringly.  
>Red knelt down and grabbed hold of her just as Elh fell - bridal style. He looked down at her counterfeited expression of release like he was holding some small, baby animal. She looked so fragile in his arms, like the very weight of reality could splinter her into millions of pieces. Nonetheless, he stood, still watching her face carefully, before turning carefully and padding down the hall.<br>Just as he gently opened the now-hopelessly creaking door to her room, he heard that noise again. That that Elh had called "purring".  
>Now that Red knew what the sound was, it no longer confused and slightly scared him, though he did start in surprise when she began "purring". It was a rather comforting noise, to be truthful. It bounced playfully off of the tidy walls of her room until it seemed to dance in Red's ears.<br>He had paused when she began, making note that the soothing murmur came from deep in her throat.  
>Red placed her as gently as he could on her bed, and tossed the blankets over her. He re-lit the scent sticks on the nightstand, picked up a few books that lay scattered upon her carpet and returned them, and finally turned off the lights.<p>

He turned to look back on her, laying there like a child after a long day. She looked so very peaceful when she slept.  
>About to leave, he was surprised when a pair of arms wound around his chest. Elh somehow was able to sneak out of her bed and hug him within the two seconds he turned away from him.<br>Unsure of what to do, blushing, he simply returned the gesture with an awkward laugh and a small grin.  
>And Chocolat sat on her favorite chair in the dining room, delving into her favorite mystery novel, smiling with the thought that she had watched a relationship be crafted. And thus did she listen on to that odd sound of Elh's: slightly jealous, but altogether satisfied with the day's conclusion.<p> 


	4. Cock Your Head and Squint

"D'you think it'll work? We tried it last year and it didn't work..."  
>"It <em>almost <em>succeeded, and that was partially your fault!"  
>"Was no... alright, I guess it was. But only because she bribed me..."<br>"With a month free of dishwashing, right. Very persuasive."  
>"Hey, toots, don't be so cruel!"<br>"I'm giving you a hard time. Now, quiet, I think she came in."

A shuffling in the kitchen as the girl put the week's groceries on the table. She was clearly tired, and showed the obvious signs of a long day of shopping. She did, however, take note of the slip of paper on the table, which made her pause.  
>Moments later, shifting the grasp of the paper bags to her shoulder, she picked it up and read the fancy embroidered front. After reading it with almost no reaction whatsoever, she opened the purple-and-gold envelope with a small, indifferent sniff.<p>

"S-she's takin' the bait. Can you tell if she's likin' it?"  
>"Can't say for sure..."<br>"Should we call him in now?"  
>"Can't hurt to do it."<br>He tapped his headset, and whispered earnestly, "Alright Romeo, go say hi."  
>A muffled reply buzzed from the receiver, and he grunted his affirmation. Shifting his position from under the stairs, he returned his vigilance to the girl at the table.<p>

"I-I know this is kinda late, dude..."  
>She squeaked and spun around, all but forgetting the groceries that now had spilled out all over the carpet. She was amazed to find a familiar fiery-haired young man in - not the usual combat attire that she was accustomed to, but - very formal dress: a maroon double-breasted jacket; clean-pressed, tastefully-purple-and-gold slacks; and, to top it off, a pair of checkerboard skater shoes. Anticlimactic, but character-appropriate.<br>Recovering from her shock, she gave him a quizzical smile and walked over to him. Lazily hidden behind his back was a beautiful rose bouquet wrapped in white satin, along with a healthy-sized, cliched, blood-red box of chocolates. Curiously, the "e" on the box was scribbled on with a similar red marker to match her name. He shied away from her a little, blushing and rubbing the back of his head. She giggled lightly.  
>"Meh, don't worry about it, hun." Turning to her, now it was his turn to exchange a bewildered look before she continued, "'It's the thought that counts' or something like that, right?"<br>He laughed uncertainly, and nodded, refusing to stop scratching the base of his neck.  
>"So..." he queried hesitantly. "Dinner and boat ride, right? O-or we could go to the theater, watch a race, or...?" She placed a sly finger to his stuttering lips with a goofy look of triumph upon her face.<br>"Whatever you wanna do, Calua hun. Just as long as you don't do this nervous wreck stuff to me. Act more like yourself, 'kay?"  
>His orange fur was tinged with a ferocious blush, and he nodded vigorously. Laughing, she gave him a hug before turning on her heel to get changed.<p>

Calua relaxed slightly as she left, but the blush and awkward smile still lingered.  
>"Ya did good, man," Our Hero stated upon leaving his hiding place. Elh walked out in front of Red, shaking herself off as she approached Calua. Past experiences played in her eyes as she looked him over critically. He was part of a terrorist plot three years ago, he - along with Gren and Opera - had hospitalized Red, and he had an attitude that she found grating. <em>And yet, he <em>is _a good __kid_, she thought to herself dryly.  
>"So, Napage," she spoke imperiously, "We won't have to expect anything backhanded or slippery from you, right? Chocolat is an innocent, happy, caring young woman who'll need a good man behind her. You think you're deserving of her?"<br>Frightened by this sudden sharpness, it took him a moment of staring at the ground to respond, but it was sincere when he came to his conclusion.  
>"Abso-frakken-lutely, Elh Mezliee."<br>Elh nodded, but did not avert her gaze just yet. "If we find any trace of bad dealings, underground plots, or - Oshylama forbid - ransom, we will find you."  
>"And once you drop, you won't get back up," Red added quietly, giving Calua the same steely look of analysis.<br>"Got it."  
>It was here that Chocolat re-entered the dining area. Giving the trio a strange look of ironic smugness, she grabbed Calua's fiery-furred forearm to lead him out the door.<p>

Five hours after they had left, Elh called Red into the room hallway with an inflection of guilt. Plodding up, Our Hero observed a single sheet of paper taped to Chocolat's door, with a few hastily-scrawled lines of text. Obviously, she had stuck it on while Calua and themselves were having their discussion.  
>The message was addressed to them.<p>

_You guys are the best! Love you both so much for doing this!_

_xoxoxo_  
><em>Chocolat G.<em>

After reading it over a few more times, Red groaned exasperatedly.  
>"She <em>did<em> find us out this time!"  
>Elh laughed, and kissed his cheek. "Hey, at least we have the evening to ourselves..."<br>Red's mouth dropped with incredulity to face his love.  
>"Dinner and a movie?"<br>"Dinner and a movie."


	5. F34r

"Now, I just want you to lay down right here," Merveille mandated, patting the odd looking chair to her left. Stealing a quick look around the lab's flickering panels, flashing lights, and ominous screens of emotionless data, Red complied. The chair was rather disturbing in itself; it looked a bit more like a torture device and less of an instrument of science. _At least it's cushy_, he optimistically quipped to himself. Though it was hard to be positive in such a dark, dreary, and cold environment.

At the head of the chair was a skull-cap-like brace with many cords and wires protruding from its cold steel frame. The majority of the spindly wires were tethered together and hooked up to a large, multi-fasceted computer, in front of which Merveille was now seating herself. Not a sound in the room broke the quiet but the insistent staccato of the Labrador woman at the keyboard.

Hoping to keep his unease at a minimum, Red queried nervously, "S-so what exactly are we gonna do?" Our Hero shifted on his side with a grunt to get a better view of the headset. "This thing looks a bit like an electrocution chair..."

Never looking down from the screen, she responded in her ever-present monotone, "On the contrary: if these tests go well, you may have better means to survive in the following months against..." She looked up at her screen with a slightly morose expression of contemplation, but shook her head and continued her assault on the keyboard.

"This device delves into your subconscious. The problem with your Trance is that it only unlocks from that section of your brain at the present. With these exercises, we should be able to extract it from your subconscious to make you summon it at will.

"The first of these exercises will be looking into subconscious fear. If my simulations are correct, fear holds a large part in the subconscious mind, so removing it will be a large step forward."

Red stared at her, taking it all in, before sighing heavily. "Alrighty, Doc, how do we do that?"

Merveille just smiled oddly. "Close your eyes and relax, Red."

Rather afraid now, he complied. He took a few seconds to think about what he was afraid of, to prepare himself. _Alman?_ Our Hero shuddered. _A dream full of Almans definitely would scare me... wh... what ab-bout... an angry... Cho... Chocolat... Chocolat...?_ As Red tried to concentrate, he noticed how hard it was, suddenly, to hold one definite thought at a time. Distorted images of Chocolat running at a sobbing Alman, who was in turn running after Red, who was sitting down on the sandstone pavement of Airdale...

Our Hero's eyes snapped open. Curiously, he sat in the cockpit of the DAHAK, which was, in turn, already operational and ready for action. He was still in his traditional battle attire. It was like he had never fallen asleep in the first place.

Until he looked up.

Airedale was in ruins. The bazaar, the outlook, the department stores, the garages... all were in flames. The remains of ships, still bound to their engines, floated eerily in the harbor. Scattered about him were the smoldering bodies of fighter mechs, all in the same unilateral disrepair. Judging by the damage, each mech's crystal drive had been either viciously ripped out or blown out. A rancid smell was omnipresent in the scene. Red had only had the misfortune to smell it once, but he'd never forget it.

Burning flesh.

Our hero cried out in absolute horror as he reached this conclusion. He could barely identify the ravaged mechs - not only from the complete demise of the crafts but also his watering eyes - but they did bear resemblance to sky-pirate utilities, although even that was a stretch. He could see the once-proud shields of the Clappers either punctured through or folded in upon themselves, with their menacing cockpits horrifically flattened. Kurvatz cannonball mechs all had their barrels torn off, and one even had it shoved through its exterior.

All in all, it was absolute slaughter.

Blind hate coursed through his veins. What monster would commit this... atrocity? Spurring the DAHAK into motion, he picked his way around the corpses of the dismantled machinery. He could feel his head pounding at the mixed emotions that currently hosted there: hate, fury, fear, confusion, and disgust to name a few.

Once the horrid smell had finally dissipated and nausea had vacated his system, Red concluded that the best plan of action would be to search for survivors, and start asking questions.

He had that plan for the many hours that he searched.

The sun had nearly set, dyed a bloody red by the foul smoke that polluted the skyline. Our Hero became increasingly desperate in his search; each house he searched was empty, if not on fire. The cute little china shop at the edge of town was level with the ground. Suzette's parts vendor shop had its roof blown off, scattering fragments of once-operational mech parts into the wind. And, strangely enough, he could find no bodies to speak of. This fact severely unsettled Red in his search.

As he passed by the remains of a storage building, however, he was surprised to hear a voice. It was indistinct and ambiguous, smothered by the fire and crashing metal, but it was indeed pleading. He passed by the frame of the entrance - the makers should be proud that it still stood after such abuse - and found the qualm. A Felineko engineer was trapped under a support beam, his left arm bent awkwardly and his face lacerated. His viridian fur was almost totally singed and covered in puffy welts.

"Hold on buddy, I'm comin'!" Our Hero shouted fiercely.

Maneuvering the DAHAK around the base of the metal beam, the mech had no trouble lifting the offending article and snapping it. After tossing it aside with a galvanized groan, Red scampered down the left arm of his robot to help the man up. He was a Siamese in his early thirties, if appearances were any judge. He bore the emblem of the Clappers on his smoking overalls.

"God bless you, sir," he moaned, clutching his mangled arm. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, probably a sign of shock.

Slinging his uninjured arm over his shoulder, Red half walked, half dragged the poor man out of the wreckage, just as the supports of the building spectacularly failed and collapsed.

"I've got a medkit in my mech," Red reassured, after helping the man sit on the cool pavement. "Just hold on a moment, alright?" He got no response.

He ran back to his mech, which miraculously wasn't harmed when the building fell, activated it, and lumbered back to the Siamese man. However, the man was standing up now. His eyes were wide with horror, and he was bellowing hysterically: "IT'S HIM! OH GOD IT'S HIM! HELP ME, SOMEONE! HELP!"

Red was surprised to see that the man was directing his complaints at him, pointing a bloody finger.

Suddenly very concerned for him, and wondering if the trauma of being stuck in a burning building did something to him, Red gently queried, "What's wrong, mister?"  
>But the incensed man would pay him no heed. Screaming "MONSTER!" and "DEVIL!" repeatedly, he took off at a limp in the opposite direction. And right off of the edge of the docks.<p>

Bile rose into Our Hero's throat, but he managed to suppress the urge to heave. Was he now alone, now that the insane Siamese man was currently plunging toward his certain demise?

On the account of his being alone he was wrong. Red failed to notice a rather menacing black fighter mech perched on the remains of a house, pointing a rather frightening-sized, arm-mounted gun at him.

The man within the mech whispered venomously, "Five seconds... pray, to the wind!"

A huge projectile erupted out of the business end as the mech released its payload. Kicking up a contrail behind it from its massive speed, Our Hero barely had time to notice as the shell impacted the pavement ten feet away, and releasing a bright orange dome of energy. Recoiling, the DAHAK reeled and nearly fell from the shockwave the cartridge created. Red's ears pounded, and he could've swore his left one bled slightly. He had no time to debate, however, as another shell was streaking towards him.

Growling, Our Hero waited until the projectile was within thirty yards of the DAHAK before making his move.

The hip joint of the DAHAK torqued ever-so-slightly in anticipation, and its door-sized hand stretched open and out to the right. Just before the shell could hit the ground, the mech grabbed the bullet out of the air, rotating its hip servos a full 360 degrees using only the projectile's momentum, before whipping back around and, with the skill and aim of a master, casting it back from whence it came. A few tense seconds later, and another tangerine globe of plasma erupted on the roof of a house some 200 yards away. Shingles of the battered house liquefied and flew in all directions as the plasma ripped their very molecular structure apart, and yet it was not strong enough for the strange man in his mech to leap out of harm's way. Once clearing the blast radius, he jumped to another rooftop before firing again. Instead, however, of using the mech's arm-mounted rifles, a long barred suddenly flipped over the cockpit, and lined up with the machine's crystal drive.

Even over the deafening roar of the flames, Red could barely pick up the telltale hum of a sub-particle cannon. He thought it rang a bell, but had no time to linger upon a conclusion.

The report of the blast was immense, insomuch that the building that the offender stood upon crumbled under the mech's feet. Red could feel the vibrations both in the air and through the DAHAK. _Oh,_ Our Hero thought bemusedly, _it's him_.

Setting his robot into action, Red made a dash around the corpses of two houses and a ship garage (which had a whole freighter rammed through its south wall) in anticipation of the projectile.

It didn't keep Red waiting. With the sound of a jet on a low flyover, and a green streak so bright it lingered in Our Hero's corneas, the projectile skimmed over the tops of the three buildings he was hiding behind, but not without their roofs virtually turning to dust. The projectile, without touching them, had literally shaken their atomic structure apart, which was now settling nicely over Red's head and shoulders. All this happened within five seconds.

Two more seconds, and the ball of pure crystal energy released its payload thirty meters away from Our Hero. This round was clearly made for long distance striking: the blast itself had a concussive force that blew down the first two houses, and nearly collapsed the hangar bay he stood behind. And even after that, Red's ears rang and his chest felt like it could explode. But that wasn't even the best part.

A similarly-green ball of plasma had consumed most of the pavement he once stood on, along with the rest of the block. It was an indescribable sound, above that of houses falling and an ever-present hiss of rogue electrons fleeing the vicinity.

After the sizzle of frying particles died off, Our Hero hazarded to take a closer look at his attacker

. The mech itself was ferocious: a tri-horned head with one green, glowing panel inset; a red, battered scarf, wrapped about the mechanic beast's neck, that weakly fluttered in the turbulence; two thick arms with mounted machine-gun barrels, sturdy, long legs with spokeless wheels perched on a weathered chimney with perfect balance. The Salamander, picture-perfect. And only one man rides a mech like that.

Beluga Damiens.

Steam billowed from the many joints, servos, and conveyors as the Salamander sagged from its sudden loss of power. From previous encounters, Red recalled how when it was in this state, it was powerless. Perfect for a counter-attack.

Despite his conscience dying for an explanation from him, self-preservation instincts kicked in first, and thus took over. Finding a rather straight lightpole that had been flattened by a stray support beam, the DAHAK hefted it and, after some weight testing and reading a summary of the weight on his message panel, Our Hero hurled the pole-turned-javelin towards the Salamander without a second thought. With brilliant accuracy that surprised himself, the pole struck the engine, piercing the hypercarbon exterior like a bullet through an eggshell, with similar results.

From the inside-out, the once-proud Salamander was utterly blown to oblivion. A blue flash, some stray pieces of metal, and a pleasurable explosion that shook shingles off of nearby houses later, there was but a scorch mark left of the mech.

Red was horrified. It was rare for anyone to survive a failed mech engine. Did he just kill his best friend's brother in a rush of adrenaline? But there was literally no wreckage, the destruction was so absolute. The few scraps of metal that had been blasted off before they were vaporized had scattered with the winds.

He fell to his knees. This couldn't be happening. Red was supposed to save people, not watch them die. The only person he tried to save committed suicide, and was probably falling through the Plasma Sea by now. And he obliterated Beluga.

He tore at his earthen-brown hair, hunched over and shivering. The edges of his vision went dark as he shook. Primitive fight-or-flight instincts flooded Red's body, lying prone on the ground.  
>Our Hero jumped.<p>

Someone was standing behind him. He couldn't tell who, but Our Hero could feel it. Whoever it was, he or she was doing a good job of being quiet. Ever-so-slowly, the clank of a pistol being drawn could be heard. The click of a hammer cocking was louder and more pronounced.

Imperiously, the person behind him commanded, "Stand, Red Savarin."

_That voice...?_

"I said stand," the man repeated; bitter, but calm.

Complying, Our Hero turned, and, lo and behold, it was Beluga, alive. But not altogether "well". A bandage covered half of his head, hiding his left eye and ear, covered in blood. His right arm was entirely gone, the sleeve of his dirtied leather jacket tied over the shoulder. Several teeth seemed to be missing, but he was alive.

"W-what happened to you, Beluga?" Red asked frantically, and in retrospect, added, "Where's Chocolat and Elh? Are they alright?"

Beluga eyed Red mysteriously from behind his pistol, which was currently trained on his stomach. "Have you no recollection of what has transpired?"

Our Hero shook his head vigorously. "No, I don't! I just remember waking up on the DAHAK on the plaza a few hours ago, and then you tried to kill me!"

"Have you no memory," he continued darkly, seemingly without notice of his response, "Of the lives you crushed these past days? Cities burning, towns level with the ground. Who shall I elaborate upon first?" Beluga dramatically paused, and averted his gaze to the smoldering sky, before looking back down upon him. "Let's start with the Kurvaz infantry. Thousands of guild members. Hundreds of ships. They're now plummeting through the Plasma Sea, if not already on the surface of the Old World. Gren, Calua, and Opera are no exception; you made it a point to kill them first. Their remains are scattered around Viszla, as I recall.

"Who else..." he spat in mock reminiscence, cutting off Red's stuttered rebuttals, "The Clappers fell shortly afterward. The Shepard Military has been crushed. The Davren Islands are just a wall of radiation and smoking rocks. Pharaoh, Spinon, Basset, and Mau are blots on the map. Millions of innocents are dead. And that's not the worst, even.

"Chocolat stood up to you first. As your younger sibling, she took on responsibility of your sudden savage behavior. Apparently you air-locked her from above Shetland. A waste of a beautiful young woman."

Red's heart froze.

"But you were nicer to Elh. Apparently, you left her on Spinon when you dropped that bomb, so you didn't have to _see_ her die. The blast incinerated the city in _seconds_."

"Sto-stop it..." Red moaned. His knees wobbled once, and he fell. "That's not true! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" He clamped his hands over his ears, shivering.

Beluga barked a harsh laugh. "Absolute nonsense. You did it, I saw the killer in your eyes! I _watched_ you raze Spinon, just as I came to save Elh. I _watched_ ten-thousand-plus people die in three seconds! Don't you lie to me!"

"SHUT UP!"

"No, I won't! Not until you come to understand what you've done!"

He tensed, before screaming, "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!" and blindly leaped towards Beluga, fists ready and a feral rage dictating his thoughts.

Before he could even make the apex of his jump, however, Beluga shot twice. Both cartridges hit his stomach.

Air, ground, air, ground... and a sickening, wet crunch. Tears muddied his vision, not only from the dust and smoke, but also from bottled fury and confusion, finding no other suitable outlet. Red vaguely remembered a scoff above him, and a steel-toed boot colliding with the side of his face, before Beluga limped away.

Minutes of stewing in his blood passed, before a crack resounded above him. The frame of the storage building had broken free of its bindings, and was now leisurely falling towards Our Hero. His thought processes were still recuperating from the vicious kick he had received, and was in too much pain to move, so he simply stared at the falling building.

_Some way to die_, Red thought bitterly. He coughed raggedly, dispelling some blood that had snuck into his windpipe, just before the wall fell upon him.

Black.  
>Grey?<br>White, definitely.  
>But, who's voice is that?<br>Amidst the monochrome swirl of transient oblivion,

a voice

**r**

**u**

**n**

**g**.

Calling...  
>Calling his name?<br>Yes, someone's calling his name.  
>A familiar<p>

_v_

_o_

_i_

_c_

_e._

More nuances of grey this time, maybe some blue?

"Red, the simulation is over. Wake up,"

Blue. Definitely blue. Patches of blue. Light blue, gray, and one tall, opaque figure that seemed to tower above him.

The familiar voice, definitely feminine, repeated in a similarly-familiar drone her previous statement, but Red only caught parts of it. Vaguely, he heard a sigh from the opaque figure, and she retreated out of his sight. A short span of time passed before he felt the strangest feeling in his skull. It literally felt like hornets were rattling against his cranium (just above his forehead, to be exact).

After a moment of trying to decipher the meaning of the sensation, it intensified, and a hollow buzzing sound reverberated against his skull. It truly was an irritating feeling.

The female voice called again, this time with an inflection of irritation. "Red, if you don't wake up, I'll have to increase the current..."

_Huh_, he mused, _I could understand everything she said that time..._

And suddenly, the hollow buzzing escalated to a dull roar that assaulted his eardrums and instantly gave him a gnawing headache. He sprang up from the bed with a bark of surprise, accidentally detaching himself from the iron headset and knocking heads with Merveille. Muttering curses, Red rocked back onto the bed and groaned - not only from the impact, but now from his splitting headache.

Merveille, with a delicate, spindly hand to her forehead, regained her haughty composure and asked blandly, "How did the simulation...?"

To her utmost surprise, Our Hero was crying. It wasn't a "boo-hoo, woe-is-me" cry, however. This was a "mentally distraught" crying.

His bloodshot eyes stared down into space, and silvery tears raced down his face. He was shaking violently, and his hands were clamped to the sides of the bed so tightly that Merveille wouldn't have batted an eyelash in the event that the steel frame snapped like a twig. Red had pulled his teeth over his lip to keep him from crying out, but it did little to keep him from hoarsely sobbing.

The room was relatively quiet, aside from the odd hiccup on Red's part, before he, too, regained his composure, and looked up at Merveille with an expression of one trying very hard not to scream.

"I don't know w-what was supposed to happen," he managed to stutter, "but I hope it worked, because I'm never g-going in again."

Merveille frowned thoughtfully for a moment before replying: "I regret to inform you that I cannot allow this. There is still subconscious fear blocking the necessary neural pathways...?" She trailed off as Red stood up with a huff and motioned to grab his belongings. Suddenly, against her nature, she reached a perfect hand to his shoulder sympathetically.

"What could've happened to have disturbed you so much? This is rather unusual of you, if I might state from a stranger's perspective," Merveille asked in wonderment.

Red paused. His face was stuck in transition between indignation and cognition as he stared somewhere over his left shoulder. He remained like that for about five minutes, twice raising his head as if to respond, but soon lowering his gaze once more to ponder. Merveille, with a scientist's and a tactician's eye, caught every second, hastily writing down mental notes and storing them away for later.

When Our Hero did speak, it was in an uncertain, shaky tone.

"I-I dunno... It was just bad... really bad, ya know? Like a nightmare that you can't remember, but you're still scared of it." Merveille's eyes widened a fraction. She dashed to her desk and wrote down a short note to herself before returning to Red's side with a sigh.

"These horrors, whatever they are should dissipate the more you partake in these exercises, however I cannot guarantee this. I can say, however, that if you continue to progress at this pace, you should have full grasp of the Trance by next week," the Labrador woman drawled, possibly in an attempt to sound comforting. However, Red showed no signs of relief. He had his hands clasped in front of him contemplatively and his gaze was beyond what one could possibly "see".

Another scholarly sigh later, Merveille walked over to her monitor and began to assault the keys once more, not expecting Red to reply. So she jumped upon a clumsy foot making contact with her table leg. He looked down at her with a hollow stare of mild curiosity, his mouth slightly ajar. Haltingly, Red queried, "How... long will this feeling last?"

Merveille, flabbergasted at this show of weakness to say the least, opened and closed her mouth in an equally-uncharacteristic-show of unease, eventually settling to shaking her head lightly.

"I... I don't know, Red. I quite honestly have no idea."

"We'll continue the exercises tomorrow."

She followed him out of the lab, and stood to the entrance of the hall as Red turned right and found Chocolat and Elh waiting for him in the lobby. Loping over, he promptly embraced the two of them upon sagging to the couch. Suddenly very concerned, the girls exchanged glances  
>with each other, and to Merveille with identical looks of accusation. She, however, merely stared back.<p>

After recovering slightly, Red righted himself and stood as tall as he could. Swiping any stubborn tears from his eyes, he looked back to Merveille, nodded grimly, and turned to leave. The girls followed suit, sticking close to his side.

The Labrador blinked once. Twice. There was a small trace of wetness transfixed to her right eye. Marvelling at this circumstance, she took a manicured finger and carefully wiped it away with the dexterity of a surgeon.

One pearly tear sat forlornly upon her fingertip.

Abruptly, she laughed, sending mirthless chuckles ringing off the pristine walls of the Golden Roar lobby. Since when has she ever felt guilt or pity for another? Still rather amused, she turned and strode down the dark hall once more, admiring the jewel-like liquid upon her finger with a bittersweet smile.

Author's Note

… Heh, I should learn how to do the gray-line thingy. Anyway, here's the next chappie. I'll just put it down here, if anyone new happens to chance a read of my story, that reviews will be responded to in PMing, along with Story/Author subscriptions.

Also, if there is one thing that I'm dying to have critiqued in this story, it would be the action scene. I've tried action before in a different fic and I got a snotty negative review, so I wanted to see if I could compose one at all.

Once again, thank you for reading, and reviews help build morale, etc etc...


	6. Shiver

Fierce glare met icy determination with vicious rivalry, though whatever diminutive measures either side would have partaken in was bottled behind sealed lips.**  
><strong>The scene: an ice-cream parlor, known throughout Airedale for its confectionery's silky texture and luxurious flavors. The conflict: disagreement between the savior of Shepard and his companion on the "best" flavor: mint-white-chocolate or orange sherbet. While this disagreement seemed trivial to most, between the feuding man and woman, it held monumental importance.**  
><strong>Red, the suitor for orange sherbet, proposed that the dispute could be settled in a contest of endurance: whoever could drink the shake of their flavor the fastest, and without succumbing to a brain-freeze, would be proclaimed the winner. Elh, the defender of the mint-white-chocolate's pride, accepted. **  
><strong>They had originally come to the parlor incognito - with glasses, hats, and a change of wardrobe - in a blind attempt to keep fans and news reporters out of their fur. It had almost worked, too.

The fault, to no-one's surprise, fell on Red, when he signed the check for their frozen confectioneries, instead of settling for a pseudonym, put down his name, and thus hell broke loose.

One of the customers happened to work for a local newspaper, and had jumped upon the couple immediately. The waitress had apparently watched Red in his various escapades in the Duel Ship, and was an avid fan. Other parlor patrons found this opportunity ripe for an autograph, and so the matter of leaving the building became a great hassle. The waitress, a young Calico, immediately left with a swish of her bottlebrush tail, and returned jovially with another round of their ice-cream. Winking at Red, she left to monitor them at a safe distance.

The basis of the disagreement lay - once more, to the befuddlement of none - on Red, who, upon asking, received a taste of Elh's choice. Upon querying, Red stated quite bluntly that

Red's beverage stood tall before him: a beautiful, culinary paragon of ambrosia, to his eyes. Flecks of navel oranges dotted the cream-colored blend of citrus ice cream and the freshest, sweetest milk one could obtain.

Elh also observed her shake with great attention and trepidation: a veritable slurry of the finest white chocolate and real mint blended into the purest vanilla ice cream, and crowned with a dainty mint leaf.

The entire parlor was wreathed in a vicious silence as Red and Elh glared at each other over the rims of their glasses. True, as it was, that this was a trivial and rather silly conflict, but the rush of rivalry and the buzz of sugar must plead their excuse.

Elh politely summoned the waitress to keep time.

The waitress checked her watch, and gives the affirmative.

The game began.

Chocolat, too, found it practical to enter Airedale in civilian attire. Her hand-picked assortment of denim jeans, loafers, gray tank-top, sunglasses and fedora, along with some earrings and a necklace, clearly placed her in the "vacationer" appearance, even if it gave off an air of mild-to-moderate affluence. She had just returned from the market to buy the week's comestibles while Red and Elh ran other errands, and was now en-route to the Asmodeus. Due to said public notice, they had rented a hangar at the west docks, which were generally lower maintenance. Perfect for dodging under the trained fan's eye.

Rounding the last corner to the ship garage, she was obliged to take pause, as an accumulating line of people blocked her path. The line lead into Airedale's famous ice-cream parlor, Huskie's, of whose renown Chocolat was no stranger to. Yes, it was indeed popular, but a line that blocked two streets for a building that barely covered the plot of land assigned was rather over-the-top.

Deciding to leave this conundrum on the backburner, Chocolat turned to find an alternate path to conquer, before she was stopped by an agonized wail. It was masculine, and strangely familiar. And it emanated from the ice cream shop. All things considered, it was a worrisome event.

She turned back to the source of the troubling noise, various violent and morose scenarios parading across her mind's eye, and found that the crowd had split upon the emergence of - none other than - Red, himself. Clutching the bridge of his snout in pain, he staggered into the middle of the crowd, stumbled, tripped, and finally fell to the sandstone. An undertone of concern rippled through the crowd as they stared at Red's inert body, a moist, glass cup hung limply in his claws.

The door swung open with a groan. The entire crowd unanimously glanced towards the disturbance, and gasped as one as Elh staggered, in like manner clutching her forehead. However, she was well on her feet, and had a victorious smile upon her countenance. In her hand was likewise clutching the husk of her mint-chocolate chip shake. She stormed over to the limp Red, nudged him with her foot, and laughed.

With immense effort, Red rolled on to his side to get a better glance at his oppressor. Still smiling gloatingly, she bent over him, and poked his chest as she ripped out her parting words in his ear:

"I won, Red. I won!"


End file.
